Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctified ❯ The Best-Laid Plans of Mice & Madmen ( Chapter 1 )

Notes: This is an experimental format. I'm using a lot of different POVs. Let me know if it's just annoying or too suspenseful, okay?

Warning: This is gonna be ugly. In the sense that you might not wanna read it if you're sensitive to character death. No intended couples, as they would take away from the story I want to tell.

Summary: Kai had sworn he would never again call on the power of Black Dranzer. But when the life of a would-be ally is cruelly snuffed out, rage consumes him and the dark phoenix is reborn. With Black Dranzer exceeding his control, Kai must turn to the Saint Shields for help.

Sanctified

A Beyblade Vforce Fanfic by

Nate Grey (XMAN0123@aol.com)

Chapter 1: The Best-Laid Plans of Mice & Madmen

It was over.

At least, that was what every single message on his answering machine said. Workers, research assistants, security guards, and even Gideon himself had eventually called (although, he hadn't sounded the least bit concerned). The project had moved on without them, and Dr. Zagart had selected another team of scientists to continue the research. They all told him to give up, to put this loss behind him and move on.

But Dr. B was not willing to do that. He had devoted far too much time to the Cyber Bit-Beasts to just accept the defeat.

However, he had learned from the experience. They'd gotten greedy, he decided, trying to capture all of the Bladebreakers' Bit-Beasts at once. No, it was best to single out one Bit-Beast and its Blader. He knew just which ones, too: Draciel and Max.

Oh, Dr. B definitely wanted Dragoon more, for destroying his most ingenious creation, Cyber Dragoon. But Draciel was the one they'd managed to capture. They'd HAD him…and then those accursed Saint Shields had come out of nowhere and taken Draciel back. At least, he assumed they had. He'd known they were loose in the Battle Tower, and he was sure there just hadn't been enough time after Cyber Dragoon's destruction for any of the Bladebreakers to find Draciel.

With Draciel back in his grasp, Dr. B wouldn't just recreate a Cyber Draciel. He would do that…and then fuse them together, to form the ultimate Bit-Beast. Then none of the Bladebreakers could hope to stop him.

The only problem was in getting Draciel again. He had placed too much of his hope in technology. This time would be different. He would use brute force to obtain Draciel, and no one would be able to stop him.

* * * * *

It had been a long and exhausting photo shoot, but Mr. Dickenson had insisted that it was a necessary one.

"It's bad enough no fans will ever be able to see your victory over Team Psykick," the BBA chairman pointed out. "If they don't get some kind of publicity from you boys soon, people will start to think that the World Champions have fallen off the face of the Earth!"

"Ah, don't sweat it, Mr. D," Tyson replied confidently. "If the fans need a match, we could always call out the Saint Shields. As long as they're stalking us, they might as well make themselves useful."

"Don't even joke about that," Max sighed. "I just got Draciel back, and there's no way I'm challenging someone like Mariam until I've gotten some more training in."

"Max is right," Kenny quickly agreed. "Battle Tower took a lot out of all your blades, in more ways than one. Unless you want Ozuma to beat you again, Tyson, I suggest we get back to training as soon as possible."

Tyson frowned. "You guys are no fun. But if everyone's gonna turn on me, I guess I could train a little."

Ray looked shocked. "You're going along with it, just like that?"

"Sure! After we get some lunch, that is!" Tyson chuckled, licking his lips.

Hilary shook her head. "Now THAT sounds more like the Tyson I know…"

* * * * *

He was leaving nothing to chance. Dr. B would not depend on complex machines or high-tech traps this time. He was going to use pure, brute force, plain and simple. The Bladebreakers were resistant, yes, but even they were only human.

And that would prove to be their downfall.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted them emerging from the local BBA building.

Perfect.

With a malicious glint in his eyes, Dr. B put the white van in gear and stomped on the gas.

* * * * *

Max could not be blamed for his lack of attentiveness. He was, like the others, tired from the photo shoot. But not only that.

He was tired of many things: battling with everything he had to give, and losing what was most precious to him. It was the second time he'd ever lost Draciel in a battle. But no more. He would no longer take his Bit-Beast for granted. This time would be different. He would be different. And Draciel would be safe with him.

Absently, he slipped his hand into his pocket and squeezed his Beyblade briefly before heading down the sidewalk. The others had already reached the corner and were crossing without him. Max jogged to catch up with them, and had set one foot on the curb when he finally heard it.

A vehicle, obviously moving at high speed, and getting closer.

Max spotted the white van a ways off, and, assuming someone was rushing back to work before the lunch hour ran out, he backed up onto the sidewalk and waited for them to pass. He assumed, of course, that the driver would speed by without even giving him a second glace. Max even waved to Tyson across the street, motioning for his teammates to go on to the pizza parlor without him.

But as he dropped his hand, Max realized that the van had not passed by yet, and when he looked to see why, he got the shock of his life.

For the van swerved as his gaze locked on it, hit the curb, and leaped into the air, heading straight for him.

There was nothing that Max could do. Even though there was time for him to move and possibly only get minor injuries, he could not. The sight was too unexpected, too unbelievable, and he found himself frozen in shock as the white van streaked through the air and bore down on him.

Something crashed violently into his ribs, and Max was knocked into the street by the sheer force of it. He landed hard on his side and hit the ground rolling, gasping in pain as the black road scratched his arms and legs. Even when he finally came to a stop, he had no idea what had happened, why he was still alive, and why the pain he felt just wasn't bad enough to convince him he'd been hit by the van.

His brain was screaming at him through the pain that something else was wrong, though. Something that had nothing or maybe everything to do with nearly being run down. But before Max could even begin to make connections, something heavy struck the base of his neck. His head slammed into the concrete, and Max knew no more.

* * * * *

Something had gone wrong. Nothing that wasn't immediately corrected, but it still irked Dr. B that his plan hadn't been perfect.

He could still see the shocked look on Max's face. Too shocked to even register fear, no doubt. He would never forget that look, as long as he lived. He would treasure it, even. Almost as much as he treasured the stolen Beyblade tucked safely in the pocket of his lab coat. Almost. Dr. B frowned as he replayed the crime in his head.

Just before the van could hit Max, something or someone had shoved him out of the way. It didn't matter to Dr. B either way. No one in the world mattered to him now. Whatever had saved Max was instantly hit and possibly run over by the van, anyway. It had all happened so fast, and he honestly had observed nothing but Max the whole time.

The moment he realized he'd failed, Dr. B had hit the brakes, leaped out of the van before it stopped moving completely, and run straight to Max. The boy had been trying to rise, but as he approached the fallen figure, Dr. B had pulled a blackjack from his pocket and struck with enough force to score an instant knockout. From there, it was a simple matter of taking Max's Beyblade from his pocket, running back to the van, and driving off before anyone could make sense of what had just happened.

No, his plan had not been perfect. But it had been successful, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Dr. B laughed to himself as he drove faster and further from the scene, still amazed at how utterly easy it had all been. He had no idea how many lives he had just torn apart…and how one extra mistake would come back to haunt him all too soon.

* * * * *

Kai was not in the habit of watching over his teammates like a hawk. More often than not, he just let them stumble directly into trouble, and if they were unable to get out of it alone, only then would he assist. They would never grow stronger otherwise, and anyway, that was how he'd learned strength.

More importantly, he had learned to be meticulously aware of everything happening around him at any given moment. He'd come to appreciate the value of that skill early on, as it had helped him avoid more than one ill-fated encounter.

On days like this, however, he was reminded that there were others who were even more aware than he, and that no one could predict the mind of a madman.

He had seen the white van before Max, but after someone else. Like Max, he had not been all that concerned at first…but something in the back of his mind had insisted that there was a certain wrongness about the van. It was nothing that he could explain, though, not even in retrospect. Perhaps nothing more than a sixth sense, but a valid one all the same.

For all Kai's awareness, he had not been certain just what had saved Max initially. But whatever it was had called out to him, urged him forward in a way that he had not been urged in quite a while. And though he would not be able to shield Max from harm, he would be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

The van had no identifying plates to speak of, as Kai had suspected it wouldn't. But as it drove off, he got a brief but full glimpse of the driver's profile, and he knew his enemy.

When he turned back to check on his teammate, Kai locked gazes with a pair of piercing green eyes. All he needed to know was revealed to him in that intense stare. That same urge took hold of him again, and he found himself wanting to leave the scene as soon as possible. There was nothing he could do there, and somehow, he knew that more pressing matters required his attention.

It was not easy to leave Max lying there, but Kai did it believing he would survive. Even if the van had hit Max head on, Draciel would have protected him. Bit-Beasts had a way of knowing when their aid was needed, and would not limit their appearance to Beybattles if their owners were in mortal danger.

* * * * *

Ray was the first one to miss Max, and so he was the first to emerge from the pizza parlor to watch out for him. He expected to see his friend walking down the sidewalk with that ever-present grin on his face. Instead, he found the scene eerily quiet and empty, save for two fallen figures in the middle of the street.

Then a bloodcurdling scream filled his heart with dread.

"NOOOOO!!!"

Swallowing noisily, Ray focused on the nearest fallen figure…and, seeing that it didn't have blond hair, was somewhat relieved. But then he realized that he DID know the person…and that the other figure DID have blond hair.

"GUYS!" he shouted, even as he broke into a mad run. "MAX IS HURT!!!"

The bell on the door of the pizza parlor jangled wildly a moment later, and Tyson burst into view, with Kenny and Hilary on his heels.

* * * * *

He had woken up that morning with a heavy sense of loss. It had taken minutes for him to identify what could make him feel that way, and even then, part of him refused to accept it.

Yet, he had said nothing to his teammates. They would've taken him seriously, of course.

But he understood that he was not supposed to tell them, that none of them could know until the moment was at hand. And he hated that fact, hated it with everything that he was. But he knew that it was true.

They had set out as they did every morning, and, finding their prey tied up at the time, decided to get in some practice on the roof of a pawn shop. It gave them a perfect view of nearly the entire street, and was an ideal place to get things done.

He'd been so distracted, he'd lost to all of them. Not one of them gloated or celebrated the victories. They all assumed he was having an off day, and that tomorrow he'd wipe the floor with them, as usual. And he had said nothing still, knowing there was not a thing he could say to ease their concern.

By the time the white van appeared, he was far beyond paranoid. Part of his brain insisted it was a grinning skull and not a van at all. Then, he knew exactly what would happen, and that he could not interfere. Even when their number was lessened by one, it took all of his will not act, to cry out to his remaining teammates, to issue some kind of warning. He would have to live with the fact that he had let it all happen.

All for sake of recapturing the accursed Sacred Bit-Beasts.

* * * * *

Max awoke faster than he had a right to. Maybe it was his brain telling him to. Maybe it was Draciel. Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, he had rolled over and was sitting up by the time Ray reached him.

"Max! You're okay?!" Ray cried, kneeling beside him, but refraining from touching him for fear of hurting him.

"Y-Yeah. I think." Though he was conscious, there was still a bit of fuzziness in his head. "Ray…what happened?"

"No idea. I just came out here and found you facedown. You don't remember anything?"

Max almost shook his head, but then he saw someone moving over Ray's shoulder. "Hey…is that who I think it is?"

Ray frowned. "I'm afraid so, Max. You may have dodged the bullet this time…but I think someone else took it for you."

Max's face paled. "Who…?"

* * * * *

She could feel nothing. That was probably a good thing, she decided. Her body felt…lighter than it should've, and she didn't want to find out why. At any rate, there was a coppery taste in her mouth, and there could be no doubt of what it was. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut, and she tried to pretend that she was just falling asleep. It was less frightening that way.

A shadow fell over her, and she knew without looking who it was.

"You're in my light, you brat," she complained half-heartedly.

"Mariam…God, no, big sis, please don't…" he whispered brokenly, falling to his knees beside her.

She felt his hands cradling her head and tried to smile for him, no matter how much it hurt. "It's okay, Joey," she murmured softly, calling him by the nickname he hated. "I was…meant for this…"

"Don't say that!" he shrieked desperately. "Tell her it's not true, Dunga! TELL HER!!!"

A large, rough hand carefully cupped her cheek, and Mariam smiled. "Hey, big guy," she said fondly.

"Mariam…you…" Dunga paused and shook his head. "I…I never got to tell you…"

She could hardly believe it when large tears splashed onto her face. "Joey's my little bro, but what's your excuse for the waterworks?"

Dunga shook his head again and looked away, but it was obvious he was still crying.

Mariam sighed and pressed her face into Dunga's hand. "Bring me Ozuma," she whispered, suddenly feeling very drained.

He was there at once, and perhaps had been the whole time.

But now she could feel him, and was comforted when she opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, his piercing green eyes intense and unchanged. She had always admired his eyes, but had never thought to tell him. Now, there was no time. Slowly, she reached up and grabbed his collar, tugging him closer. "How'd…I do, boss?" she asked through a half-smile, half-grimace.

For a moment, he said nothing. Finally, Ozuma closed the distance between them and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Good soldier," he said firmly, with no tremor in his voice. "May the Spirits go with you."

She managed a grin, a weary, weak one, startlingly different from her usual. "Gonna haunt you," she promised good-naturedly before shuddering and falling back to the street.

Ozuma closed his eyes, and then reached forward to do the same for her.

* * * * *

Amazingly, Tyson had been the first to notice the Saint Shields. His instinct had been to go to Max, but…something tugged him over to the tight circle of his rivals.

He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but his stomach lurched at the sight of all the blood. Even so, he didn't stop walking until he was directly behind Ozuma.

The leader of the Saint Shields stood up and turned to face Tyson. In his arms was Mariam.

Tyson shrank back automatically as his eyes landed on her. "What…how did…?" Then his gaze met Ozuma's, and he understood that, in a way, this was his fault. At least, Ozuma's eyes seemed to think so. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

Ozuma arched an eyebrow. "I know. But not as sorry as I am." With that, he turned and walked off, followed by Joseph and Dunga.

Tyson watched them go, and would've stayed there if Max hadn't appeared at his side, leaning on Ray and Hilary's shoulders.

"Tyson…is Mariam okay?" Max asked, his eyes wide with concern.

He could not find it in him to lie at the moment. "No, Max. She's not."

"…you don't mean…?" Max whispered, horror slipping into his voice.

Tyson lowered his head, unable to answer his friend. He was only slightly relieved when he felt a small hand on his arm.

"Let's go home," Kenny suggested quietly, "and be thankful for small miracles."

Max nodded his agreement, but could not speak; there was a lump in his throat that refused to go away.

* * * * *

Continued in Chapter 2: Cries in the Night

While both teams try to deal with the tragic loss, Kai is out for blood…